Pretty astounding, since the Rays were nine games out at the beginning of the month, and this game looked pretty much all over for them in the seventh.

Lots of baseball miracles last night…except, of course, for the Bucs, who were predictably snuffed by the Brewers on the last day of their 19th straight losing season.

I damn near turned the TV off in the 7th inning (the mister was snoring away by then). Instead, I left it on and picked up a book. Thank you, Jeebus! My book got put aside in the 8th, needless to say.

...and then, there’s Boston. Again.

What’s most astounding is that I had no idea that Eva Longoria had transitioned to being a man—and knew how to play baseball.

@Oblomova — That totally threw me, too. His name seemed awfully familiar, even though I barely pay attention to my home team, let alone the Rays.

Congrats, Betty!  How exciting was that?

Poor. Boston.

“God has a plan,’’ he said. “And it wasn’t God’s plan for us to be in the playoffs.’’

So you’re saying it was God’s plan for the Sox to choke like a dog that swallows a wishbone?

The theological implications are staggering.

It was God’s plan to have the Wuss Jose Reyes lay down a 1st inning bunt and then beg off the rest of the game.  Jose will forever forth be known as the Wuss who won a batting title.  I thought you had to have large cojones to play for the Mets, I guess this is the exception that proves the rule.

Good mornin’, Sawx fans! How ya feelin’ today? Little let down, little discombobulated, like the universe has hit a galactic pot hole and bounced yer chowda head into the ceiling of the streetcar to loserville?

As for Reyes, he plays for the Mets and the Mets, unlike the Yankess, suck huge balls because of the fact that they aren’t the Yankees. The Yankees suck, don’t get me wrong, but The Mets are the hipster version of baseball fans, a bandwagon filled with a whole gang of wannabe underground grunge-singing-kazoo-playing-vinyl-record-listening douchebags.

Fuck the Mets
Fuck the Mets
Step right up and pee on the Mets
Bring your kitties you suck at life
Now go home and cry to your wife

Fuck the Mets
Fuck the Mets

Little let down, little discombobulated, like the universe has hit a galactic pot hole and bounced yer chowda head into the ceiling of the streetcar to loserville?

Heh! As for the Phightins, phuck them TOO!

Heh! As for the Phightins, phuck them TOO!

The autumn of 2008, a magical time, a time of change, of a cosmic shake-up, of momentous, earth-moving drama in which our nation sat transfixed, staring wide-eyed at its TVs, ears glued to radios and locked on to web pages as history was made and a party took place.

The Mall in D.C.? Pshaw.

Uh, I hate cilantro, dude. But I would love to see the Rays get another crack at the Phuckin’ Phils.

Last night was crazy.  I got to watch the end of both games (BoSox losing and Rays winning).  Unbelievable.  Way cool.

Cilantro sucks!

Put this in the wrong post, stupid post-lunch food buzz.

Here’s a Phun Phact, Betty. Once Jeter retires no future Yankee will wear a single-digit number because they will all have been retired.

#1—Billy Martin

#2—(pending) Derek Jeter

#3—Babe Ruth

#4—Lou Gehrig

#5—Joe Dimaggio

#6—Joe Torre

#7—Mickey mantle

#8—Yogi Berra

#9—Roger Maris

Bonus—#10—Phil Rizzuto

And serious congrats to the Rays and Joe Maddon (Another Pennsylvanian who conquered the South, like George Meade)